EDitorial ± 21-Jan-2007
Rather than a will-always-let-you-down electronic organiser, I keep a pile of 3x5 index cards on which I scribble Things I Must Do, where the uppermost card lists items for that week. I do something, I cross it out, all's right with the world. I don't do it -- which *can* happen -- I carry it forward. Mostly. Top entry, since a town centre incident before Christmas involving a beautician's appointment and a locked cycle, has been these two words:
Now picture me and the kids coming out of the Surbiton Road Co-op around 5:45pm yesterday, Sunday, and Eldest points out: Dad, your bike's not there. I try to be green, then a yellow meany recycles my cycle, meddles with my pedals, lifts my lights and generally steals my wheels. Them's the brakes.